The Puzzle Ring (33 page)

They rested that night on the island of Lismore, and the next day Fergus worked to repair the damage wrought on the boat by the Blue Men's storm.

Hannah got up at sunrise and went out alone, taking only her rowan walking-stick with her. She found a high outcrop of stone, with early crocuses and daffodils pushing their way through the grass, and drew out the holey stone.

Hag-stone, where is the last loop, the fourth,
That was flung to the north?

The landscape raced towards her, forest and mountain and moor, river and waterfall and circles of standing stones. At last it steadied, and Hannah could see a tall, cone-shaped mountain through the hole in the hag-stone. Its peak, perfect as any in a child's drawing, was streaked with snow. Below it stood a tall rock, split right down the middle so that it resembled two hands folded together in prayer. The light of the rising sun struck upon the rock, making the lichen glow, and glittering upon a shard of gold that rested on the very tip of the stone hands.

‘It sounds like Schiehallion,' Max said when Hannah described the mountain to her friends on her return. ‘That's the only mountain I know of that looks like a perfect isosceles triangle.'

‘Schiehallion,' Hannah repeated, trying to give it the same thunderous roll over her tongue. ‘Shee-HALLION!'

‘It sounds like some kind of war cry, doesn't it? It means “hill of the fairies”, though,' Donovan said. ‘Not quite so macho.'

‘It's got to be the right place,' Hannah said. ‘So far the rings have all been found at fairy places, haven't they?'

Linnet nodded. ‘Schiehallion is a gateway to the Otherworld. I do not know these praying hands, though.'

‘I guess we'll find them when we get there,' Scarlett said.

‘If we're quick enough, we can get the last loop and get back to Fairknowe by the spring equinox,' Hannah said. ‘That's the twenty-second of March. I wonder what the date is today? If we don't get back in time, we need to wait till the next thin day, which is not till the first of May.'

Scarlett jumped up. ‘Well, let's get a move on then!'

Within the hour, the little boat was sailing up Loch Linnhe and by early evening had tacked into the mouth of Loch Leven, which lay at the foot of the mighty Glencoe Mountains. Black and grim, with snow on their hunched heads, and mist huddled about their bare shoulders, the mountains seemed ancient and impenetrable. Hannah felt a shiver run down her spine. She closed her hand about the hag-stone, which still hung on its ribbon about her neck. For the first time it occurred to her that her hag-stone was made of the same substance as these old mountains, worn by wind and water over centuries to a mere nub she could slide her finger through. She had wondered at its inexplicable powers, which let her see over vast distances, understand strange tongues and breathe deep beneath the surface of the sea. She wondered no longer.

‘So what do we do now?' Scarlett asked when they had made their farewells to Fergus and paid him the money they owed, and watched him tack his little boat away over the shining water.

Angus looked sour. ‘We start walking.'

Glencoe was a long narrow valley, filled with the shining waters of the loch. On either side the steep mountains soared a thousand metres high. It made Hannah's head spin looking up at them. She looked down, concentrating on the rough ground under her feet. Her arms and legs did not seem to want to work properly. It was just adapting to solid land again, she told herself. She crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself against the chills that racked her. The
others were a long way ahead now. Hannah stopped on the top of a slope and bent over, trying to catch her breath as the others turned, calling to her.

They spent the night in a crofter's cottage, huddled together in the stable on a pile of damp straw. When Hannah woke she knew she was not well. Her head ached, her limbs felt weak and her throat was hot and sore. She said nothing, though. All Hannah wanted to do now was find the last loop of the puzzle ring and go back home. It had taken them so much longer than she had expected, and the spring equinox was hurtling towards them. The very thought of not making it back to Fairknowe in time was enough to propel her up off the straw and back on the road.

The six companions reached the top of the mountain range and began to cross Rannoch Moor, a bleak, bare, windswept expanse of peat bogs, heather, long stretches of lonely lochs, and weirdly shaped granite rocks. Clouds raced over the sky, bringing squalls of cold, stinging rain to lash their faces. Hawks called eerily, swinging through the sky. All Hannah could do was put one foot forward after another. She felt as if she had travelled a thousand years back in time, ten hundred thousand years, to a time before humans.

By nightfall Hannah had fallen far behind the others. The ground was undulating beneath her feet as if her slight weight was irritating the hide of some immense and stony creature. She leant heavily on the rowan walking-stick, afraid she might fall.

‘Hannah, are you all right? What's wrong?' Donovan came quickly towards her.

‘I don't feel so good,' she said.

‘What's up?'

‘My head . . . my throat . . .' She tried to swallow, but it felt as if she had razor blades instead of tonsils.

‘Max!' Donovan called.

‘What is it?' Max came bounding towards them, thin-legged as a grasshopper. The setting sun glinted off his glasses.

‘Hannah feels sick.'

‘Oh, goody!' Max rubbed his hands together. ‘A medical emergency. Doctor Max is here.' He took Hannah's wrist, pretending to read her pulse in a doctorly manner, but almost immediately his expression sobered. ‘Your pulse is galloping away. Ouch! You're burning up. You really are sick.'

‘I don't feel so good,' Hannah said, and leant against Donovan.

‘We'd better get her some shelter,' Max said. ‘I think she's got the flu.'

‘I'm not surprised, swimming in the ocean in March,' Scarlett said.

‘You don't get the flu from getting cold,' Max said. ‘It's a virus. Let's hope it's not a bad one. Hannah won't have any resistance to sixteenth-century viruses.'

It took the companions more than an hour, walking slowly, before Angus found a small cottage where he could knock and ask for help. Built in a narrow dip between hills, with a view across Loch Eigheach, it was little more than one room with a low shed attached, where a goat was penned in with lengths of driftwood.

A young woman opened the door a mere crack. She was thin as a stick and as white as whey. ‘Wha' do you want?' she asked in such a strong accent that Hannah could barely understand a word.

‘We have a sick lass here,' Angus said. ‘She needs warmth, shelter.'

The woman shook her head. Her tangled brown hair hung lankly about her thin face. ‘I don't want any sickness here. I'm wi' bairn.' She opened the door a smidgen wider so they could see she was heavily pregnant, the hard bulge of her belly pushing out her ragged dress.

‘Please,' Linnet said. ‘She cannot walk any further. Can we shelter in your shed?'

‘I don't want you here,' the woman said. ‘My man's been called up by the laird and I'm here all alone.' Her voice quavered with fear.

‘If you let us use your shed, we can help you,' Angus said. ‘These lads are strong. They can gather firewood for you, and draw water from the loch . . .'

‘We don't go near the loch if we can help it,' the woman said with a shudder.

‘What is your name, lass?' Linnet said kindly.

‘Edie,' she said after a moment, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

‘Edie, my name is Linnet. I can help you too. I can clean for you, and sew, and milk the goat, and I can make up some tea for you to help the pains in your belly.'

‘Very well then, you can stay, but I don't want you or your fever anywhere near the house, and you must help me while my man is gone. Tether the goat out under the trees, he'll come to no harm outdoors for a day or two.'

Linnet nodded and gently guided Hannah into the shed, which was filthy and smelt strongly of goat.

‘My guess is she'll make us work hard for the privilege of staying in this muck,' Linnet said grimly. ‘Come, my lamb, sit and I'll see if I can clean it up a little.'

The next few days were a blur. The fever made the whole world seem as fragile and transparent as cellophane, with another, darker world pressing up close behind. Hannah heard weird laughter and sobbing and a high whining sound, and saw, against her closed eyelids, faces like demons, contorted and coloured like dancing flames.

‘Hannah, you must give me the hag-stone,' a demon with Linnet's soft voice said. ‘I can heal you.'

‘No!' Hannah cried. ‘It's a trick. Go away!'

‘I'll give it back to you,' the demon promised.

‘You're lying,' Hannah sobbed. ‘Leave me alone.'

‘Can't you just take it?' some other demon asked.

‘Hag-stones can only be found or given,' the demon with Linnet's voice said. ‘If I take it, it will turn against me.'

Hannah could not make sense of the words. She felt like she was in the abyss again, fighting hard to swim to the surface, while the black immutable tide dragged her down.

She wanted her mother, and wept at her absence. She wanted Linnet. Not the slim, young woman she knew now, but the stooped old woman with the lilting voice and cloudy eyes she had known before. She wanted to be at home in her own bed, in crisp sheets smelling of lemon washing powder and her quilt with all its soft velvets and silk in patches that she loved to rub between her fingers. She wanted it all so badly she could not help sobbing, which made her headache and sore throat worse.

‘It's all right, Hannah.' Donovan laid a cool damp cloth on her forehead. She stared at him blankly, then turned her crimson face from side to side, her breath sharp in her throat.

‘She's got a high fever,' Max said. ‘We've got to bring her temperature down. I've already given her all the aspirin I brought with me, and there's not exactly a chemist nearby where we can buy some more.' His voice was bitter rather than sarcastic.

‘There's an elder tree down by the loch,' Linnet said. ‘Both elderberries and the flowers are good for fevers. I'll go and see if it's blossoming yet.'

She was back a few minutes later, a green flowering branch in her hand, a rueful expression on her face. ‘That girl Edie saw me praying to the tree,' she confessed in a low voice. ‘We do not cut an elder tree without asking permission first, for it's sacred to the Great Mother, you know. But now she thinks me a witch and has barricaded herself inside her house, weeping and praying. I think we should leave as soon as we can.'

‘We can't go till Hannah's fever has broken,' Max said firmly.

‘Is she going to die?' Scarlett asked, clasping her hands together.

‘Lots of people died of the flu in the olden days,' Max admitted.